Words
by thecrystalkey
Summary: Translucent.Opaque but not entirely hidden, she shows the world only a part of herself. Her light shines from within but it only illuminates what she wishes others to see. Mostly. The shadows slip through, sometimes, and begin to take on their true forms.
1. Translucent

Title: Translucent  
Author:thecrystalkey (aka hobbitqueen, evil_hobbitess)  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except what's mine. The characters are Bruno Heller's and the assorted networks and companies attached.

Anything you recognize is quoted from the show and, in one case from the first-season outtakes reel.

A/N: There are a lot of wonderful writers in this community and I wanted to ackowledge that the style of these two shorts has been heavily influenced by SpaceAnJL and Cathartes in particular.

* * *

Translucent is not the same as transparent. He wonders how long it will take her to realize that his word choice was entirely deliberate.

Transparent objects pose no barrier to sight. Translucent ones allow light to pass through but, while they may project shadows of what moves behind them, they retain much of their opacity.

The others are transparent. Cho because he chooses to be - having figured out certain elements of Patrick Jane's psyche early on – while Rigsby and Van Pelt can't help it. It's in their natures, hard as Van Pelt wishes otherwise.

The others he can read at a glance but Lisbon... Teresa Lisbon requires greater depth perception.

Translucent. Opaque but not entirely hidden, she shows the world only a part of herself. Her light shines from within but it only illuminates what she wishes others to see. Mostly. The shadows slip through, sometimes, and begin to take on their true forms before she can banish them again.

He knew from the start that she had issues, vague shadows moving behind her eyes, but he had to dig into her background, do actual research - legwork, for heaven's sake – to find their true forms. Had to wait, patient/impatiently, for her to show enough of herself for him to be sure. He's still not certain that he's accounted for all of them, the shadows behind her projection screen.

It's why he studies her more often than the others, and spends longer doing so. It's a study that has been well worth the time and effort he's put in. It has won him a friendship worthy of the name; a supportive shoulder to figuratively cry on or just to lean on, should he feel the need. And it made him feel he could – felt compelled to - freely offer his own in return. However reluctant she was to use it.

It's funny, really. At least to his morbid sense of humour. If asked, he would probably say that he doesn't believe in God. But it's hard not to think that their alignment of circumstances – her promotion, his hiring on as a consultant – is more than coincidence. Maybe it was God, maybe it was Fate – if either exists – but it seems an unlikely accident, even to him, his being put in the charge of the one person he's ever come across to show immunity to his talents.

He's not sure where the light comes from, inside her, but it's there and it shines for all to see. Her nicknames; Mother Teresa, Saint Teresa – they are more than just happenstance of names and limited human imagination.

If she _was_ sent to him, or him to her, by a God – it is one who understands him to his very soul. If she were an angel, she would be the vengeful righteous flaming-sword kind. She isn't, of course, but it is a visual that he is reminded of when her eyes flash with fury. It's a large part of the reason he so often provokes her.

_You're untrustworthy_.

Hurtful, but true.

_It's my job not to trust you._

Also true, for a certain value of true. And yet equally applicable to Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt; all of whom know better and yet continue to fall under his spell when he makes the effort. Lisbon has yet to fall more than halfway into any of his schemes and always makes sure that they're both aware that it's a conscious choice she's making.

(_Mr. Jane is a consultant, his opinions in no way reflect those of the CBI.)_

She often goes along as much to catch the show as the criminal, wielding deniability like a club if caught out. He can't help but think, but has yet to point out, that she'd have more believability if she could keep the note of triumph from her voice.

And, sometimes, or so he gets the impression, she goes along with him simply because she enjoys watching him get punched in the face when he miscalculates.

It's not nice of her but anyone who expects 'nice' hasn't known Teresa Lisbon long. It is an aspect of her that he finds intriguing because she is otherwise so compassionate. Meeting her is the first time that he realizes that compassionate and nice are not the same; do not even necessarily correlate.

Patrick Jane is neither a good man, nor a nice man, and never was. But he tries, now, to balance the load he spent so long accumulating. The deaths of his loved ones, his responsibility, weigh heaviest on the wrong side of the scale.

The team all know this, of course, intellectually. He's given it away plenty of times – the self-loathing, the guilt are not secrets. But the only who always sees it, always bears it in mind, is Teresa Lisbon.

Eminently practical, she can be blind to the whimsies and vagaries of human nature and yet she can see past his own mask well enough to know never to offer him pity – nor even, most times, sympathy. Though he sometimes wishes... No. He wants neither, for his past. He got what he deserved, for public arrogance and wrongful pride. It is the innocent lives lost to teach him that lesson that drive him forward now. They did not deserve to be part of his punishment. Nor does anyone else, except the man upon whom he daily plots retribution. If he must suffer, he would far rather suffer alone. Or in the company of the devil named Red John.

This is not to say that she will put up with his black moods, which are many and frequent.

He'd been temporarily blinded and confined to a hospital – the stink of antiseptic and squeak of practical shoes on linoleum bringing back unwelcome memories on top of the choking panic – and she'd pinched him, hard on the arm (dammit, woman!) for giving the _doctor_ a hard time. Had threatened to do worse if he didn't behave. He'd believed her. And ended up staying in the hospital nearly a day longer than he would have otherwise.

He is neither a good man nor a nice one, by nature; but with her around, keeping to the narrow path of redemption is positively easy.

It's not a matter of respect, though he does respect her. He also respects Cho, and Rigsby, and Van Pelt. He even respects Virgil Minelli and - _lip curl of disdain_ - Samuel Bosco. He respects them all to varying degrees but he would never follow orders given by any of them.

It is fear and it is trust that keeps him under her (thumb) command.

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_Review. It does a body good._


	2. Fear

Title: Fear  
Author:thecrystalkey (aka hobbitqueen, evil_hobbitess)  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except what's mine. The characters are Bruno Heller's and the assorted networks and companies who have claim to The Mentalist.

Anything you recognize is quoted from the show and, in one case from the first-season outtakes reel.

* * *

Fear. There is no shame in admitting it; even the unflappable Kimball Cho fears her wrath, and her disappointment. Though for Jane, it isn't entirely that kind of fear.

_You know how you are._  
_I know how I am. There's no need to worry. Lisbon'll keep me in check. [...]Her word is my command. No, that's not right. Her wish - her _wish_ is my command_

He's afraid of crossing the line, of being told 'no more', because he is afraid of what he would become without her to keep him on his chosen path. But there is a lurking, underlying fear of what he is leading her to as she begins to stray more often from her own path. He is afraid, and ashamed, to be the admitted cause of her own recent fall – twice so far, and counting. He finds himself grateful that that particular accusation, and its consequences, brought her up short and set her back to herself, irritating as it was to have to start all over.

He is also afraid of her because she sees more of his true self than the others. She _requires_ honesty; demands it, though the truth it reveals be black as dark midnight, where the others in his present life prefer the happy ignorance. He is vulnerable to her in ways he hasn't been to anyone since childhood. It keeps him off-balance and gives her one more measure of power of him. If he didn't trust her to hold that power, he'd have fled to his own pursuit of justice long ago.

_I trust people. I trust you._  
_No, you don't_. She'd actually laughed._ I don't trust you, either._

Surprise and shock, because he'd meant what he said. Had thought she trusted him. And she did, to an extent – just not the extent he'd hoped for assumed. Certainly not to the extent that he trusted her. An oversight he'd since worked hard to correct.

_Lisbon, I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I will be there for you. I will. _Duck down, to look her straight in the eyes – the only way to truly read her, it lets her read him as well. _I need you to know that._

It took more than that, of course, but at least she didn't laugh in the face of his sincerity. Though forcing her to do the trust fall anyway confirmed that he hadn't been entirely wrong. She did trust him a little bit, even then.

As much as it hurt his sense of drama (his wish to impress) he began to share information ahead of time, with her and only her; and to plan with, instead of around, her. Most of the time, anyway. He worked to become her partner rather than her chief liability.

It was a slow change, and difficult, to let her in as far as she needed, but it was one he was glad he'd started when she abruptly changed the rules after her semi-public dressing down by Minelli and Bosco.

It was a painful sight to witness, accusations and innuendoes, and his own reaction – childish and immature – didn't help. She'd been right not to give in to his implicit demand for reassurance (she knew him too well) and had been annoyed enough with him, and herself, to force him to say the words.

Patrick Jane, begging. He'd have thought himself pathetic but this was Teresa Lisbon. Special case. Always. He'd have crawled through fire on broken glass before doing the same before anyone else.

Pain and truth were more than worth it only weeks later when she'd turned to him for help. He'd had to push her, of course, as she'd pushed him not long before but they'd gotten there eventually. Drugged, confused, and breaking slowly into jagged pieces, she'd turned to him and they'd planned – together – and won.

Shared victory brought him an unexpected high. It didn't hurt that that smile back on her face, gone for an endless two days, was like watching the dawn on New Year's Day.

There's just something about her smile.

Unlike him, her shadows do not drown her. The light in her drowns them. When she's happy, she's happy from the inside out and it's reflected in her smile.

It's a trick he privately envies and wishes he could emulate, in spite of the obvious corollary to darker moods. (If he never has to helplessly watch her cry or rage again, it will be too soon.)

It took him some time to realize that he doesn't need to know the trick because her happy is infectious, just like her smile. Her light can drown his shadows, too.

It was a revelation; one of the first he had about her. Getting a smile out of the ever-serious Agent Lisbon – a genuine one, mind – could temper his darkness and brighten his days.

That discovery had led to his long ago self-appointed mission to coax a smile from her at least once a day. To bring out her light and banish the darkness in both of them for a time.

He only wishes that Red John didn't feel like a freight train bearing down once more – and again his own doing – on the most important (woman? relationship?) person in his life.

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_Review. It does a body good._


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